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[Chibi-Reaper]

"Come now, good fellows and winsome lasses, and I shall sing for thee the lay of lord Smythe."

Instantly, and from the raised pedestal, a booing sounds.

"Play Freebird instead!" an out of place man, eyes covered with sunglasses.

"Milord, I must again insist I know not this song of the freed bird of which you speak." The minstrel insists, half worried and half reprovingly. "The lay be in your very honor, m'lord William Smythe."

"Keep telling you, it's Billy Smith."

"Ahem."

The bard coughs, and begins to play a simple tune on his lute, colorful sleeves catching the eye, and tiny bells chiming with every movement of his arms.

"Twas a night most drear-
And thundering storm-"

"Always, it was a dark and stormy night. That's just taking too much artistic license. It was actually in the middle of the afternoon, and pretty sunny."

"Please, milord." The bard insists, pained look on his face.

"Right, right, go on."

"..."

The bard takes a deep breath and begins anew.

"Twas a night most drear, and thundering storm-
Didst strike cold fear, into hearts warm.
For hiding about, both near and afar-
Were the terrible raiders, of war-chief Lazar..."

"Lazarus."

"Lazarus does not rhyme, milord." The bard complains at the unwanted interjection.

"Yeah, I don't care. All these songs have gotten it to the point where even the histories are wrong, and I mean come on, an orc boss named Lazarus, that's just being blatant in your foreshadowing."

A stern glare of reproof forces the great hero William into a shrug, and reaching for one of the little meat pies set out. The bard continues.

"In meadow soft, in village humble-
As happens oft, did wizard bumble."

".... Yeah, don't let him hear you say that or you'll be a toad like that." Billy muttered.

"While thundr's report showed raiders near-
Not monster summon'd, but man of no peer-
He came, William Smythe, the Man Without Fear."

Billy coughs, and looks awkward.

"You've got to understand, I was play-testing a new game at the time...." he mutters.

"As raiders crashed through in the dark, stormy night,
He took up a plank, and against them did fight.
With no care for his safety, against them he stood-
Armed not with sword, but mere length of wood.
And at him they came, with frenzied blood lust,
And at him they came with sword slash and spear thrust,
And at him they charged, as though demons from hell,
And cattle he spooked, and stampeded well,
And rear did their horses, and riders they fell,
And trampled they were, before man called by spell.
And laird of the village, who had feared for his life,
Cried tears of pure joy to be saved from this strife,
Offered to hero any boon, and claimed William Smythe:
No land and no gold, but the favor of his wife."

"...... You've got to understand, I still thought I was play-testing a new game at the time..." Billy mutters, abashed.

"In terrible darkness did war-chief Lazar-"

"Orsinnus is mostly desert. White sand. The whole place lights up bright under even a little moonlight, and the average day is too bright for you to see at all unless you have rocking shades like mine, or wrap cloth around your head. You'd go blind trying to look around unprotected for too long."

"..... Did hear of his raiders, fallen so far,
And vengeance he sword, that he'd take the life,
of the mighty hero, of William Smythe.

But away and off, in nearer lands,
Lord William Smythe crossed paths with brigands.
Had left village humble, when laird red of face,
Could no longer take a fortnight of disgrace,
Of his wife and the hero, in matters unchaste.
Demanded he satisfaction, Smythe made it a race.
To the grand mountain a week hence, and then back to the town,
The winner to claim the laird's wife for his own.
The finest of horses were the laird's to choose,
With ornery mule, Smythe's fate to lose,
Knew this did Smythe, and after race started,
Remained he three more nights with laird's wife, then departed."

".... unofficially, like, I'm pretty sure my head is worth a lot in that village, as long as the rest of me isn't still attached to it."

"The brigands did halt hero Smythe when they found,
Demanded his coin, or his blood on the ground.
Said Smythe in turn, his wrath need not be felt,
His coin did he carry inside of his belt,
And theirs it would be, so long as, he asked,
Twas retrieved by his choice, brigand bands only lass.
A hand grasp'd within, twas not coin that was found,
And smythe did suggest it might have slipped further down."

"They always have to sing about that bit." Billy groans. "Always."

"Too late realized, there was no coin to be found,
And hostage had Smythe, for bandits around.
Yet further he spoke, the hero would not run,
For he did yet know twas greater trap to be sprung.
From forested cover, into bandit irate,
sank feather'd shaft, arrow of raider make,
And in the surprise came another and mate.
And battle was met, against raiders on horse,
by the great hero Smythe, and the bandits of course,
And loot left to them, if only in turn,
They would come with Smythe to bolster the armies in force."

"I took an arrow in that fight. In the shoulder, not the knee. Movies make you think that's just a flesh wound, not really, whole arm was fucked for a while after." Billy reminisces. "... That's about when I realized I wasn't actually playing a game, what with actually hurting and bleeding."

"Chief Lazar, he came, at his armies head,
Seeking no more than that Smythe be made dead.
The kingdom he promised, safe from all harm,
From the greatest of cities to the least little farm.
Every road every tavern, every field tree and glade,
If Smythe was but delivered, so Chief Lazar bade.
But we would not betray the lands finest hero,
At least, once the vizier fell from tower window.
For a brief time did tempers against Smythe run hot,
'til evidence revealed, treacherous vizier's plot.
Including a message, of good king overthrown,
But foiled it was, for lord Smythe had known."

"Look, the guy had a goatee." Billy points out, arms crossed. "In a world of thick, scruffy beards and carefully shaved faces by servants, this one guy took the time to sculpt his facial topiary into a deliberate indication of evil. I mean, if that had been it I'd have thought twice, but he wasn't even trying to hide it. Tell him a joke, he laughs in a high pitched evil cackle. If he's interested in something, his eyes gleam with avarice as he rubs his fingers menacingly together. For fuck's sake, on the way to a meeting with a tax man he kicked three puppies and stole a kid's stuffed animal just because he could, and pitched it down a well later. Dude was just not subtle. He was obviously doing something that I wasn't going to want any part of later on."

"Armies did crash, and battle afar,
warriors fell, and so too Lazar,
did fall in assault, and on his death knell,
did demons lay claim and drag his spirit to hell."

"No, he just died. Sort of gurgled. Messed himself. They don't tell you about that in the movies either. I guess it's not good for singing about, too."

"Memorial constructed, and placed inside,
the body of Lazar, his corpse to hide,
Concealed within stone floors and a building of same,
T'was one year it was, to the day when they came.
Lazar's canny wisemen, taking heed of the plight,
of the crumbling raiders in absence of his might,
Came they did to the grave, came they from the waste,
and overlooked what might not have been missed in less haste,
As corpse of Lazar heaved rattling breath, and sat up at the waist,
And pins were pulled loose, and traps that were laid
Of alchemical power, and powder for trade,
From the wise men and wizard, set just for such attempt,
And blast heard as far east as the village of Kempt,
And far west as the wide-sprawling trackless plains,
And of those foul mages and corpse? Naught remains."

"Yeah. Called that one. I mean, come on, 'Lazarus'? Really? Obvious plot hook is obvious, and I'm just supposed to leave that be and let it happen? Nah."

Billy took a sip of thick beer from a stein, grimacing, having never quite gotten used to the typical rustic flavor, and ignored the bard droning on a few more verses about how he had tried to talk down the next warchief and what had turned out to not be an unloved and soon to be cruelly used and abandoned infatuated tag-along, but a loving and monogamous wife of thirteen years. Can't call them all in advance, he supposed.

Still, he'd done pretty well, he would say, for someone who was all show and had never actually learned to use any sort of weapon in his life. Just make enough preparations in advance, after predicting obvious turns of events, and the legend would just sort of... grow around him. As long as he was never forced to actually fight someone who knew what they were doing, or anything, he was on the gravy train for life.

"Milord!" A courier called. "Milord, we have need of a hero... the princess Rosemary, from the summer palace to the east, she... she has been abducted by a Dragon. No average warrior or knight has hope to save her, but you-!"

Just like that, and in a flash, Billy Smith was up and out of his seat, stuffing his purses with nearby valuables and food products, and making a mad dash for the gates.

"Milord! Milord, thou art drunk and reveled to confusion, milord Smythe, east, the summer palace is to the east, thou art going west!"

"A hero we called for, a hero's creed
and gained we a hero of kingdom's need,
A hero fearless, with no care for his life,
Long may he live, good sir William Smythe."

Fin~

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